


I see you

by amberandmetal



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: DDLG, Daddy Dom/Little Girl, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Medium Slow Burn, Past Relationship Abuse, Some angst, daddy dom, daddy dom tony, dd/lg, her ex is a piece of shit, the smut will happen i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-04-17 11:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14188302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberandmetal/pseuds/amberandmetal
Summary: Working for an event planner company you’ve been assigned to chaperone a Stark afterparty, making sure everything run smoothly. When things turn upside down you find yourself in the company and comfort of none other than the Tony Stark - and for some reason he doesn’t seem to want to let you walk out of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so first thing’s first: you can read about DDlg [here](http://www.ddlginfo.com/what-is-ddlg.html) though this is a general and brief description, if you want to learn more just shoot me a DM with any questions and I’ll be happy to answer them. And fyi, no kink shaming or kink hate on my blog. You will so be called out and blocked. Secondly this is the first time I’ve tried to write anything in present tense and I have no freaking idea how that went but if I mucked it up somewhere don’t be scared to let me know, english isn’t my 1st language so I am bound to make mistakes.  
> ~  
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://waywardkitten.tumblr.com)

## I

**01.15**

    You sigh looking away from your wristwatch. 

    Forty-five minutes to go.

    You do not want to be here.

    Around you people are various levels of drunk ranging from slightly giggle tipsy to making-smalltalk-with-an-ornamental-cactus to the always appreciated and standard fall-on-your-ass-smashed. 

    Leaning back a bit at the end of the garish looking sofa, you sip on your drink. Virgin mojito, because you have more sense than to get drunk on the job, and especially in this situation. The event planning company had hired you not two weeks ago which, apparently, basically made you their bitch—  in other words: doing all the dirty work, such as staying at Stark tower to oversee one of the infamous after parties to make sure everything ran smoothly. 

    Allegedly, Tony Stark is your best client.

    The bass thrums strongly up your spine and into your ears, mixing with the cacophonous blabber into a grade A overwhelm cocktail. You stand up, putting your drink without looking on one of the waiters trays. You need to find a bathroom and you need to find one now.

    Making your way through the crowd isn’t easy and you silently wonder whether it’s a fire safety violation to have that much people in the same place or not. Warm bodies in showy outfits press up against you as you try to move smoothly between them. It’s not until you finally see an out towards the elevator that the feeling of a rough hand closing around your upper arm sends jolts of alarm up through your skin. 

    Not here. Please, not here. Not now.

    You spin around; and there he is. Face as handsome as ever, suit meticulously pressed, soft notes of his expensive cologne evident even in the heavy fog of sweat and booze that cling in the air, and eyes still as dead as the last time you’d seen them.

    “ _You_ have a terrible habit of running away.” His voice is calm and collected, barely louder than the volume of the crowd, but he looks at you like he is well aware that you can hear him perfectly, that you still gravitate toward his every word with a focus and sort of breathlessness that madly resembles the symptoms of being hypnotized.      

    Clenching your jaw to keep your chin from wobbling you look up at him, and as he flexes his fingers a terrified sob breaks through your resolve. You twist your arm, squirming experimentally in his grip to see if he will give.

    You have no such luck.

    He pulls you closer, and now you can detect the acrid stench of vodka on his breath.

    “Two things, pumpkin, that I thought you knew but apparently have to be retaught,” he hisses sickly sweet against your ear, a rumbling undertone that brings your thoughts to a predatory animal getting ready to pounce. Your ears are pounding but this time from the rapid beating of your own heart, “One, I don’t like it when what is mine just up and leaves. Two,  _little girls_ who  _misbehaves_ requires  _punishment_. Just like you want it, remember?”

    His mouth is right underneath your ear now, his teeth close to your jugular. You can feel sweat pooling at your temples and soaking the fabric of your flimsy dress under your armpits. 

    Your eyes snap around the crowd. Nobody is watching, nobody has noticed anything.

    Panic grabs a hold of your heart and before you know what you are doing you are stomping your heel on his foot and when he jerks in pain he lets go of your arm long enough for you to shove him hard into a group of dancing women. You don’t even think; you just turn around and run for the elevator, crouching down and making a beeline through the last few feet of dancing bodies. 

    Once inside the elevator you sink to the floor and just slam the buttons, not caring where you end up as long as it is far away from  _him_.

## II

    You try to fight her, the Little part of you that is in complete distress clawing its way up to the surface. You can not sink into sub space now, not here, not in public and not after what had just happened. Being so small, so vulnerable and so terrified would ruin you. And if anybody would find you like that..- 

    You have a job to do and as far as anybody knows you had gone to the bathroom.

    The floor beneath you seem more like jelly than cool metal as you get up on shaking legs, dusting off your dress and looking yourself in the elevator mirror to assess the damage. Puffy eyes and a little mascara smudge but otherwise you look intact, you hair still held up in it’s fancy version of a ponytail.

    The sudden elevator ding makes you jump a bit in alarm.

    You peek outside. It is empty.

    The only thing you had been aware of was that the elevator had taken you down instead of up but you have no idea for how far or even how many floors the Stark tower has. The hallway outside looks cold and bare, still typically Anthony E. Stark extravagant, but empty. You venture outside, barefoot with your heels in your hands, deeming it safe enough to look for an exit. You just want to go home.

    You try to fight the descend into Little space the encounter with your former Dom had provoked— but it is no use.

    As your consciousness shift you feel the tears simmer up to the surface and spilling in the corners of your eyes. You are alone now, nobody will find you here. You can find an exit and just leave, call an Uber and spend the ride home with your head in your hands so they won’t see, won’t judge, come in to work tomorrow and claim you got too much to drink or ate some bad shrimp. They can’t fire you for being AWOL for the last 30 minutes of the night, can they?

    The sobs start to tear through your throat when the Little part of you starts screaming as the big strawberry gash where your heart used to be whole tears through its stitches— the big ol wound your ex had repeatedly reopened. 

    It had taken all of your willpower, all of your resolve to finally leave, to pack your bags when he was at work, change your number and move in with your sister.

    That was three weeks ago.

    It hasn’t stopped hurting.

    A high clattering noise wakes you up from your thoughts. At the end of the hall there are a set of two heavy looking doors, one of them standing slightly ajar. As you tiptoe closer, with a hand covering your nose and mouth to stifle any unsolicited sobs or snivelling, you start to make out the rhythmic notes to a song you know all too well. Mama kin by Aerosmith. It’s one of your favourite songs and you can’t help but inch closer, chancing a glance through the creak in the door. On the other side of the doors is a garage, if you could call something so big and clean a garage, and near the doors, standing out from a wall is what appears to be a big work bench surrounded by all types of strange machine- and machine adjacent paraphernalia. And in the middle with his head down, eyes unwaveringly focused: Tony Stark.

    You’d wondered where he had been all night.

    “Correct me if I’m wrong, but  _you_ are not supposed to be here.” he muses lightly without looking up. You jerk back, plastering your back to the door, your hand clamped tight over your mouth to quiet your hard breaths.

    “Or actually, don’t. I hate it when people do that.”

    Next thing you know the music is being turned off and Mr. Stark’s head is peeking out at you, hair mussed and safety goggles pulled up on his forehead. He looks like he has a snide remark on his lips just waiting to happen but after one look at you his smirk loosens and his brows furrow slightly.

    “…you alright?”

    You let your hand fall and try for a smile that doesn’t quite seem to be able to hold. You shake your head.

    “I’m sorry, I’m being weird and inappropriate. I should go.”

    You make a move to leave but just as you do he reaches out to grab your arm and before you know it you’ve let out a rather loud gasp and fallen onto the floor. The gesture too similar, too sudden, and too soon.

    “Shit.”

    Tony had immediately let go of your arm and is now crouching down beside you, hands outstretched with his palms up to show you he isn’t going to touch.

    “What exactly happened here? I was just about to make some joke about wild and inappropriate being completely my thing and then you went down like a ton of bricks?”

    Your breathing had turned rapid and your chest rise and fall in tiny short gasps as your eyes flitt everywhere except for over the man next to you. There’s a high pitched ringing in your ears and you have a hard time swallowing, your throat dry as a sheet.

    “My Daddy, or no not  _my Daddy_ , my former.. or no  _no_ —“

    “Wait, your dad is here? You two got into a fight or something?,” he tips his weight back until he lands on his ass and sprawls his legs out in front of him, one knee raised to lean his arm on. The gentle look of something akin to sympathy adorning his face is completely unnerving, “Talk to me.”

    He grabs a ragg from the back pocket of his jeans and starts cleaning his fingers from the grease and oil covering them. Your eyes snap to the movement momentarily, watching with fascination and wondering how he could possibly think he could clean his dirty fingers with an even dirtier piece of cloth.

    You shake your head profusely. What the hell had you just told him?

    “No, no just forget I said anything.”

    “No hey, if somebody hurt you? Especially in  _my_ home? I won’t tolerate it. You said your dad..?”

    You shake your head again, gentler this time, a bit more timid. You peek up at him through the curtain of hair keeping your face from view.

    “No, you said..oh- oh..,” his features suddenly softens for some reason and then hardens just as quickly,“Your dom?.. ex-dom did this?”

    Oh god. Oh no.

    “No hey, wait,” he scoots a bit closer, dipping his head to try and see your face beneath the hair, “you don’t have to be shy. I’m okay with it, actually I—,” he pauses, “ you know what, never mind. Can I touch you or will that set you off again? Just to help you up?”

    You breathe for a few more minutes, battling with yourself and the thin wall keeping you from slipping back into the wrong mindset.

    You nod.

    He puts your arm around his neck and helps you up, leading you through the doors to a couch hidden from view behind his workbench. At the quizzical look that creates on your face he just shrugs.

    “What can I say? I tend to stay here for long periods of time, apart from a portable kitchen with a mandatory espresso machine it’s always a good idea to have a place to nap.. my back can’t really take sleeping bent over the desk anymore. Or so my PA claims.”

    He lowers you down on the remarkably soft cushions and wraps a blanket around your shoulders. The whole situation is completely ridiculous.

    “I shouldn’t be here, I—”

    “It’s okay,” he interupts, “I know my fair share about Dom sub type relationships and I know how they can royally fuck people up.”

    He pins you with a look, a strange mix of warm, stern and sincere.

    “You look three shades short of fainting right now, so I suggest you stay here until you feel well enough to leave. And call a friend to pick you up, you should not be in a cab like this. Alright?”

    He looks at you until you quietly nod your agreement.

    “Great,” you watch as  a warm smile replace the hard set to his lips, “Now what do you say I whip us up some hot cocoa?”

    You huff a laugh. Is he being serious?

    But nevertheless he  _seem_ genuine, so you nod again, trying for a grateful smile, albeit small; then he winks and gets up, leaving you alone in the garage.

## III

    A faint whirring noise wakes you up several hours later. You swallow down the sleep thick saliva coating your tongue and slowly blink around the room. You mostly see tufts of your own hair hanging down your face but behind it there are cars and pillars and— 

    “Oh my god! Mr. Stark, I am so sorry,” you splutter, sitting bolt upright on the sofa trying to fix your dress that had twisted strangely around your body while you slept, “I don’t—  _shit_. Please don’t tell my boss? They will fire me in an instant.. I can’t believe I did this, I  _can’t believe_ — what the _fuck_ — I am  _so_  sorry!”

    “Woah, woah, hey.. mental breakdown time-out, alright?” Tony is bending down in front of you, holding your wrists gently, “It’s alright. When I came back you were asleep and I figured you needed it,” he lets go of one of your wrists in favour of holding your chin and tipping it slightly upward to look at him; the intimate gesture something that would normally make you flinch but instead feels comforting and oddly normal,“you weren’t in the way, and even if you were chances are I wouldn’t have noticed. I tend to hyperfocus when I really get into it.” He gestures to his work area that have significantly expanded while you slept. He gives you a reassuring smile and you can feel your shoulders drop as you relax a bit.

    “You sure?”

    “Always am.” He winks and you feel a slight flush tinting your cheeks. He sits back on his work chair and wheels it back with a hard push towards what he apparently had been working on all night (..morning?). You look it over but give up just as soon as you start; there is no way you can even begin to try to understand what it is or what it is for.

    “I called Happy, my driver extraordinaire, to give you a ride home when you woke up. Just take your time and drink your cocoa, the least you can do when I made it especially for you,” he adds with an impish grin, “and when you’re okay to go home just take the elevator to the main floor. Happy is right outside. Don’t worry, you’ll see him, he’s the sturdy looking fella looking spectacularly undeserving of his name.”

    You finally smile then for what feels like the first time in weeks. He smiles back. In front of you on the small side table is a hot plate with a mug on it.

    “To keep it warm until you woke up.” he explains.

    “Thank you.” You don’t even recognize your own voice, the way it seem stuck in your throat, raspy and thick.

    Something similar to concern bleeds into the Jack Daniel’s-brown of his eyes, but then the side of his mouth quirks into a slight smile again.

    “Don’t mention it.”


	2. Chapter 2

## I

     Your sister had not been happy about you stalking in at 6 in the morning, especially since it had woken up the baby. You had felt a bit ashamed as his piercing screams had started tearing through the house.

     “You just count your blessings that he doesn’t like you yet.” she had snapped as she’d made her way into the nursery while you seized the opportunity and slipped into your room, closing the door with a relieved sigh.

     In what fresh hell do you manage to spend the night on _Tony Stark’s_ couch in his _garage_ ? Really, y/n? _Really_?

     You shake your head and quickly make a beeline for the windows, closing the drapes and then shimmy out of your dress and underwear to flop naked onto your bed, letting your hair out of its ridiculous hairband confinement. The sheets are cool against your still sleep-heated skin. You close your eyes and wrap yourself in them, stretching and curling around on your bed until it looks more like a nest than a proper bed. Finally satisfied with the pillow, sheets and duvet arrangements you let out a deep exhale, feeling every muscle in your body untense.

     Deep mahogany brown eyes drift into your conscience and you jerk, your eyes flying open. What the fuck? You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the warm tingling feeling that had settled in your chest. No, no. _Nonsense_ . Once again you try to get comfortable but this time a meticulous goatee framing plush soft looking lips turnt up into a crooked grin sneaks into your mind. No no, _no_. You try to clear your head, focusing on the feeling of the sheets against your skin but as a moth to flame your thoughts blurr into the shapes of brown tousled hair and rough yet delicate fingers, long and smudged with oil grease. You let out an irritated huff and start to count your breaths, violently pushing the unwanted thoughts out of your focus.

     Inhale _, one,_ exhale; inhale _, two,_ exhale; inhale, _three,_ exhale; inhale, _four,_ exhale..

## II

**(09.24)Tony:**  
_I exchanged our numbers while you were sleeping. hope you dont mind. You forgot your Devil wears prada heels on my couch_

**(09.27)Tony:**  
_Did you sleep? Hope you did. Still looked a bit shaky when you left, kiddo_

**(10.42)Tony:**  
_See this is what the “wildly inappropriate being completely my thing” was about. What can I say? I completely denounce all kinds of social protocol. Dont tell me I didnt warn you_

     Your eyes seem to have frozen, permanent in their state of boggling right out of your skull. You move for the cliche trick of pinching your arm. The skin left by your fingers turn slightly pink and you shiver. Nope, definitely awake. Your thumb hover over the screen. You can’t deny the familiar fluttering in your chest the unexpected texts brought on but at the same time you feel a sense of wariness climbing your back and settling in the hollow where your spine meets your neck. _What’s his angle?_

     You set the phone down next to your thigh on the bed and let your head rest in the palms of your hands. This whole situation has become completely surreal. How has it even come to this?

     Brown eyes fleet back into your mind, but not the honeywarm ones that refused to leave your thoughts earlier that morning but turbid, hollow ones; like the colour the water takes on when your feet stir up umber slime from the lake floor.

     He had been there. _How_ had he been there? At that same party? How had he even known where you were? Surely he must’ve been there for you, what other business could he have had at a Stark afterparty? He was the editor in chief for a _newspaper_ for fuck’s sake. He would never have been invited.

     Another memory flash across your vision and you suddenly feel a tingling around your upper arm where his hand had clamped around you. The need to vomit is suddenly overwhelming and you rush into the small bathroom next to your dresser.

     Moments later with a stomach -if possible- emptier than before you slump down on your bed, a fluffy blanket wrapped around your naked body, cold from the chilly bathroom tiles.

**(12.01)Tony:**

_I am aware of the one sided communication taking place here but I just need to know youre okay. A simple o.k would suffice. Dont make me check in on you. The stalker vibe doesnt suit me._

     You smile in spite of yourself and the thoughts filled with lurid memories of the last year of your life slowly gets replaced by others; memories of hot breaths against warm skin, stubble rasping sensitive flesh, tufts of disheveled chocolate hair tickling the inside of your thigh, hands made to caress and protect rather than to strike, lovebites being soothed by warm kisses raining down on you like snowfall, whiskey eyes and pink lips turned up in a smile.

     Your breath catch in your throat as the images from that morning’s dreams flows through your thoughts. You hadn’t thunk it possible but you are starting to seriously question the possibility of your heart beating right out of your chest.

_Wow_.

**(12.17)Y/n:**

_Hello, Mr.Stark. I am so sorry about last night. And sorry for the late reply, I slept for longer than I intended. Thank you for telling me about the shoes, I must’ve been more out of it than I thought. I am okay, thank you for the consideration. I’ll pick up the shoes later today, if that is okay?_

     You cringe at the stiff formal wording but you have no idea how to play this. Why is he so..casual? And why does he even care so much? The thought of Tony Stark genuinely caring about you has your mind kind of reeling a bit.

**(12.18)Tony:** **  
**       _No._

     Your heart stops.

**(12.18)Tony:**  
      _Easier to just go outside and get them, wouldn’t you say?_

     What the..?

     You get up and go to the windows, peeking out through the drapes, thinking he’s had his PA drop them off but there is nothing on the curb, not a living soul in sight, just parked cars lining up the street on both sides. Among them a creepy looking black car, way too fancy for this neighborhood. It wouldn’t surprise you if it is the FBI doing surveillance on your creepy ass next door neighbor. You sigh, scratching your neck, not knowing what to make of any of it. You decide to let it sit for a while, especially when you get a glimpse of the time and realise you’re late for work. You don’t have time for a shower so some wet wipes and perfume will have to do. 10 minutes later you are out of the door, barefoot with your sneakers hanging by their laces in your hand as you fumble with the keys to the door.

     “Is it a bohemian thing?,” You jump, completely startled, “or is it just a hate of shoes in general?”

     As you spin around and get greeted by the sight of Tony Stark leaning nonchalantly against a sleek black car (that looks unnervingly familiar) you become extremely aware of the embarrassing sound      that had just escaped your throat.

     “W-what?”

     “The no shoes thing,” he says, vaguely gesturing to your bare feet, ”Everytime I see you, though admittedly it’s only been twice now, you seem adamant to not wear your shoes.”

     There’s a laugh twinkling in his eyes that are peering at you over the expensive looking sunglasses. The amused smile playing on his lips is infectious and you release a quiet breath you weren’t aware you had been holding and you relent, giving a small smile back.

     “It’s not so much a hatred of shoes as the love of feeling my ground beneath me,” you take a few hesitant steps down the stairs to the sidewalk when you notice something red glinting in the afternoon sun, “oh, you didn’t have to.. I would’ve come by to pick them up.”

     He holds your shoes up as if examining them and then glances back to you.

     “I couldn’t take the chance, now could I?,” he grins but then his demeanor changes as he scratches the back of his head, ruffling up his hair and squinting at you through his designer sunglasses, “and to be perfectly honest I got worried when you didn’t answer my texts. You seemed pretty shaken up last night so I wanted to make sure..” he cut himself short with a sheepish shrug.

     “I promise you I’m not creeping, this is just genuine concern, okay? And Happy here,” he gestures to the driver’s side of the car, “ conveniently remembered where you live.”

     You inch closer from the stairs until you’re right in front of him. Images from your dream spark in the back of your mind and you feel a warm sensation as your body begins to heat.

     “I don’t mind. Really— it’s nice.”

     Tony huffs a small chuckle.

     “Well, that’s great then. Listen, you need a ride to work?”

     You quirk an eyebrow.

     “You know where I work?”

     “With your freakout last night about me telling your ‘boss’ I kinda put two and two together.” he informs with a wink, opening the back door and gesturing for you to get in.

     A small blush creeps up on your cheeks. Oh, _that_.

     As you got in you could’ve sworn hearing Tony mumbling something that sounded terribly close to “ _adorable_ ”.

## III

     The car ride was pleasant. Despite your initial wariness Stark had been nothing but kind, easy going and, strangely enough, hilarious. Somehow this man totally gets your kind of humour which, sadly, is a big first.

     Tony also have a smile that manages to light up the entire room, or in this instance: car. It is beyond infectious and you yet again feel yourself relax in his calming presence. It’s strange, you’ve never met anyone before who seemed to have this certain aura about them that just invited for comfort and ease. It was like being unknowingly doused with a shot of valium; except valium never made you feel quite this..giddy.

     He's in the middle of telling you a story and you throw your head back and laugh, not caring in the slightest that you snort a little.

     “Your _robot_ did _what_ ?”

     He laughs, leaning back with a denim clad leg propped up on the seat next to him; the casual appearance a stark contrast to the meticulous suit tailored image you’re used to seeing in the media.

     “Hah, yeah well.. I must’ve missed a few screws when I made DUM-E, or I screwed a few on too tight.”

     You peer curiously at him.

     “So why do you keep it? Why don’t you fix it or turn it into something else?”

     A strange expression sets across his face, something almost wistful.

     “Well, firstly because to me he is not an _it_ but a _he_ , and he’s my first. I made him at a time in my life where I .. let’s just say I needed the company,” he squints at you momentarily as the sun moves behind your back, and then continues less serious, with even the touch of a smile tugging at his lips, “He is like that idiotic puppy you get for x-mas one year who won’t stop peeing on the rug or drink the toilet water but you still love the little bastard.”

     You feel warm sudden. All the PR proclaiming this image of Tony E. Stark: emotionless playboy, attitude for miles, unattainable and mighty, and here was this sweet man, slung casually over a three seater in jeans and a The Doors t-shirt talking about his creations like they were people, like they were his family. Before you can give yourself the chance to reconsider you open your mouth.

     “Can I see you again?”

     His brows shoot up on his forehead and his eyes look almost comical in their surprised state. You curse your entire face as your cheeks betray you by heating up again.

     He sits up, looking you over, then licks his lips, peering at you over his sunglasses.

     “You want that?”

     You smile sheepishly and nodd.

     He beams.

     “Absolutely.”

## IIII

     “Looks like someone charmed the pants off a certain Stark last night.”

     Oh god, what now?

     You turn around, plastering a fake smile on your face and feeling a little sick with yourself in doing so but hey, you need this job. If you lose it there is a good chance your sister is going to kill you, or bare minimal maime you a little. You look down at your boss, she is at least 6 inches shorter than you but that does not make her any less terrifying.

     “Boss, hey.. Look I am so sorry— “

     “Sorry? For what? You must’ve done an amazing job last night since this is the first time we’ve actually received a call after hosting a Stark event. Stark’s assistant called me up this morning, this proper little thing Ms. Potts,” you coughed, covering the chuckle that bubbled up in your throat at your boss calling the 5'7" Pepper Potts little, “ and she absolutely rained praises over you, telling me they’d only like _you_ to handle their business from now on.. strange seeing as you were only the chaperone.”

     A weird expression set in her perfectly painted face, a mix of awe and suspicion. You swallow thickly.

     “Oh, well that’s great. I’m honoured, really—”

     “Yes, well,” she sniffs, her face an alarming blend of stern eyes and a blinding smile, “don’t fuck it up. It’s our most _important_ client.”  
     She pats you on your shoulder and then sashays back into her office, leaving you standing in the hallway wondering at exactly what point during the last 24 hours you’d taken a wrong turn and ended up in Wonderland.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late and short update. College is kicking my ass rn and I am going through things on the side of that, but I am promise: this fic is NOT forgotten. Once School is out June 8th I'll update more frequently.

## I

    Seven days and countless texts later your phone buzzes again.

    “Okay that is _it_ ,” your sister exclaim, reaching for your phone, “who keeps messaging you at all hours of the day like some teenage boy?,” she peers at you, mirth twinkling in her eyes, “ _Is_ it a teenage boy, Y/n? Do you have something to tell me? Do I need to lock you up?”

    She cackles heartily as you keep the phone at an arm's length away from her.

    “No no, _no_. None of that. It’s just..someone, okay? Leave it.” you respond, not unkindly.

    You chance a glance at the phone in your hand.

 

     **(18.11)Tony:**

    So did you listen to it? Thoughts?

 

    You smile to yourself, completely ignoring the snickering of your sister next to you at the table.

    Ever since you mentioned that the song he had on that night in the garage is one of your favourites he’s insisted on sending you songs and playlists to listen to with promises that they were -quote- ‘gonna rock your world’. This newest playlist is a mix of early Judas Priest, Zeppelin, Sabbath and The Doors with some Cream and Yardbirds mixed in there. It’s very late 60’s early 70’s. You’d already played it on repeat for most of the day.

    “We’re not teenagers anymore, learn to mind your own business.”, you chuckle and swat at your sister’s hands as they once again teasingly reach for the phone. She sniggers and throws her hands in the air.

    “Alright, alright..,” she goes silent for a while and then, “is this one at least good to you?”

    Your head snap up at her tone, the ‘ _this one_ ’ remark not going unnoticed. The concern on her face is so genuine and honest it makes your chest tighten. You worry at your lip, anxiously grinding it between your teeth at the thought of _him_. You put your hand gently on hers, urging her to look at you.

    “It’s not like that, at least not yet,” she looks at you, a sort of fearful sadness in her eyes, “but yeah, he is good to me. Almost too good at times. I’m still not 100% sure it’s even happening.”

    A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. She grabs her chopsticks and shuffle some more bamboo shoots and noodles into her mouth with a loud slurping noise.

    “You seem happy,” she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, “or at least _happier_.”

    “Yeah, maybe.”

    You eat on in silence.

    It has only been short of a week and you still haven’t seen him since he drove you to work except for the occasional video call in the mornings. He started this little routine of yours the day after he dropped you off. Every morning he’ll send a video call request in various states of tired, asking you how you’ve slept. It hasn’t happened yet that he’s slept too when you have your morning talks. Since the renovations in his workshop finished that’s usually where he is when he calls, nursing an alarmingly large cup of espresso that he refers to as Big Joe, and looking like he hasn’t rested in days. You try to coax him into putting Big Joe down and going to bed but he just shakes his head and insists on his sleeping patterns not being that of mortal men; to which, of course, you just snort. These last few days you’ve slowly come to realise, even more than before, that Tony Stark is _not_ who you’d thought him to be, at all. He is brilliant, of course, but in more ways than one, stubborn beyond repair and above all else he is unfailingly kind. If you were honest with yourself it’s all a bit bewildering.

 

     **(18.57)Y/n:**

    Yeah I have! Strange brew and heart full of soul is amazing! I’m scared I’ll grow tired of them at this rate

 

     **(18.57)Tony:**

    Nonsense. Impossible!

 

    You chuckle and pocket your phone to remove the dishes.

    Later in your room your pocket vibrates. Picking it up you find it’s a video call from Tony, which seem.. _strange_ since he only ever does this in the mornings.

    “Hello handsome.” it has gone surprisingly quick for you to go from Mr. Stark to Tony to teasing pet names. Thankfully Tony doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

    “Hey, kitten,” he smiles brightly and you try to stifle the shiver the pet name evokes in you, “what you up to?”

    “Just had dinner with my sister. She is relentless in her quest to find out who ‘keeps texting me like some smitten teenage boy’ “   
    Your exaggerative impression of your sister brings out a bark of a laugh from Tony and you can’t help grinning from ear to ear. You love making him laugh.

    “Teenage boy.. well, ouch. Maybe I should stop then.”

    “Oh no, not on my account. I rather like the attention.”, you quip back.

    He peers mischievously at you through the screen, a brow raised over his left eye.

    “Of course you do, kitten.”

    Again with the pet name. You try to shrug it off, convincing yourself that he is probably just one of those types who insists on using pet names on everyone they meet. He _wouldn’t_ know the effect it has on you. He _couldn't_.

    “So you already ate.”

    “Yes..?”

    “Ah.”

    You raise an eyebrow.

    “What?”

    “That complicates things.”

    “Are you always this cryptic?”

    “Yes.”

    You laugh a bit, shaking your head.

    “Drinks then?”

    Oh, _oh_.

    “O-okay.”

    “In an hour?”

    “I guess?”

    “You _guess_ ?”

    “I mean, uhm, yeah sure.” 

    “Fantastic.”

    And then with a wink and one of those heartwarming smiles he seem to save just for you the screen turns black.

    What just happened?

    Oh, shit. _Drinks._


End file.
